


Male Reader X Female Freddy Krueger

by CampGreen



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies 1984-1994)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: The next real installment in my smut/horror (smorror?) series, this time taking after New Line Cinema's A Nightmare on Elm Street and Freddy Krueger.





	Male Reader X Female Freddy Krueger

Where are you?

Boilers, pumps, heaters, and lifts are tightly, endlessly packed in this massive, unfamiliar cage, and everything is drowned in a blood red fog. It looks like an industrial version of Hell itself. You're in nothing but your briefs, the nakedness adding to your helplessness. Your bare feet slowly creep against the freezing cold cage floors, cautiously exploring the system of catwalks lining this hellish boiler room like party decorations. Suddenly, the low, wicked chuckle of a woman echoes throughout the nightmare like an intercom. You're on the verge of pissing your briefs, darting your head back and forth like a paranoid schizo. Then you hear a constant stream of metallic shrieking that cripples your senses like nails on a chalkboard. A shadowy figure drags its fingers along the catwalk's railings as it slowly approaches you from down the hall, and suddenly, you're face to face to it. A curvy, busty blonde you could only describe as the textbook example of a femme fatale, eyes and smile a mixture of allurement and sadism. Her attire consists of a brown fedora and a striped red-and-green sweater, ragged and charred like clothes salvaged from a house fire. Frozen in fear, you're pushed to the ground, the coldness of the catwalk torturing your bare back. The woman mounts on top of you and pins your wrists to the floor. You notice her right hand is masked in a leather glove, fingertips made of razor sharp knives. The more you look into her eyes, the worse your paralysis gets, and you can tell just by her twisted smile she knows it. So why is she holding you down? Just to taunt you?

 _"What's the matter, (Y/N)?"_ she asks in a voice so booming it sounds like God himself. She wedges her right index and middle fingers into your mouth, tightly sandwiching your tongue between her knives like a pair of scissors and drawing blood ever so slightly. She could twitch her fingers and you'd drown in your own gore. _"Cat got your tongue?!"_

She lets out a villainous cackle as you whimper and shudder at her mercy. Then you awake, sweating bullets and panting your lungs out. It was just a nightmare. You're in your cozy bedroom, your phone reads 1 AM, and it was just an awful nightmare. You snuggle back under your blanket and taste something metallic in your mouth. You dab your tongue and see blood on your fingers. Must've bitten your tongue in your sleep...

The next day, you stagger home into your bedroom immediately after getting off the bus. The bullies and the teachers were relentless today, you feel as if you ran a marathon. You collapse onto your bed and pass out the second your cheek touches the covers. You awake when the warmness of your bed gets replaced by the coldness of metal. What the hell? You look around - you're in the boiler room again. You're excited that you're lucid dreaming, but scared you're having the very same, vivid nightmare from the yesterday. You explore the endless grated corridors, and suddenly a piece of the catwalk flooring caves in, wedging your leg in a hole in the ground. As you try to pull your ankle out of the ensnarement, you hear footsteps stomping against metal from around the corner. A pair of black, knee-high boots step into the corridor, belonging to the woman from yesterday. As she approaches helpless little you, she cuts a hole in her sweater with one of her knife fingers that makes for a window to her massive breasts that jiggle like over-sized water-balloons with every step she takes.

 _"What's say I skin you starting with those clothes of yours, huh, (Y/N)?"_ she says as she plays with her nipples and licks her lips.

Just as you manage to jerk yourself out of the hole in the floor, she lashes forward and rips your white dress shirt open, sending four buttons flying in all directions and exposing your bare chest. You trip back and land flat on your ass, and she grabs both of your ankles and yanks your black uniform pants clean off your legs, again stripping you down to your underwear. You kick her square in the face with your bare sole, giving you enough time to stagger to your feet.

 _"Oo, feisty!"_ she teases, now with a hint of blood draining out of her mouth.

 _"Who the fuck are you?!"_ you wimpishly yell at her, the echo carrying your broken voice for miles.

The figure chuckles. _"Who am I?"_ She pauses to lick the blood off of her chin. _"Tell 'em Freddy sent'cha."_

This time you shut your eyes to blind yourself from her trance and sprint in the opposite direction, running across the catwalk and never looking back. The system of pipes suspended on the walls crack and blow steam in your face, clouding your vision, and when it comes back right as you round a corner, she's right in front of you.

_"Boo."_

You jump back in a startle and the rickety old railing that catches you gives out, snapping off its hinges and sending you flying down into the bowels of the boiler room. You and the railing collide against the hard metal floor, and a shadow looms over you through the fiery mist encasing everything. She plants her knees next to yours and with one of her knives slowly drags your briefs down past your shivering, sweaty thighs, uncovering your limp dick. With her left hand, she picks the thing up like a worm and starts stroking it. You try to fight back but her lazy yet piercing eyes and wicked beam have you locked in a trance, and the way she tunes your dick like an instrument is heavenly in a twisted way. Uncontrollably, it strengthens into an erection, not much bigger than it was soft but hard as stone and beating fiercely like your heart.

 _"Holy shit, that's as big as it's getting?!"_ she laughs as she scrutinizes your penis like a food critic. _"Is that your dick, or did God misplace one of your thumbs when he made you?! And these balls,"_ she continues as she holds your scrotum in the other hand. _"I've eaten grapes bigger than these things!"_

Your face goes as red as a beet with embarrassment as her glove loosely clenches your dick, ever so slightly giving you five flesh wounds. You cringe as your pulsating veins ooze blood out onto the knives. She tickles the tip with her tongue before deepthroating, lubricating every inch of your dick with saliva whilst fondling your balls. You squirm and squeal as she pleasures your cock, then she turns around and sits on it, letting it snake up in between her gelatinous ass-cheeks. She thrusts her hips up and down with your glistening wet dick tightly sandwiched between her butt, and before you know it, you're back in your bedroom with a line of cum staining your sweaty body from your hair to your crotch. Both disappointed and relieved it was just another dream, you stumble into the bathroom to clean yourself up and ponder about this figure in your subconscious. Unlike most of your dreams, she's so precise and concrete, like a real person. She's always in that hat, always in that sweater, always in that glove. It's as if she isn't a figment of your imagination but a physical resident of the dreams themselves. As you finish scrubbing the cum out of your hair with a baby wipe, you shrug the theory off and figure it's just some porn star you glanced at a while ago. What did she call herself? Freddy, wasn't it? You recall stumbling upon an old, heavily redacted news article about someone named Freddy in the attic. Thanks to exams coming up and overbearing parents, your house has restrictive Wi-Fi. If you want to research her, you have to check the library. Your phone reads about 11:45 PM. You throw on some sweat-clothes and quietly sneak out the back door. The public library is only a block from here.

As expected, every door is sealed shut. The only entrance is a tiny air-vent cover you see hanging over a dumpster. After about ten minutes, you finally manage to pry the damn thing off, and you're just barely able to squeeze into the duct and crawl your way in until you find another cover. This one comes off much easier, and the two of you clatter against the hard carpet flooring of the pitch-black library. Rubbing the pain out of your sides, you use the glow of your phone screen to locate a computer. The only search engine it has to offer is its own custom Springwood Library one, but it'll have to do. You search _"freddy porn star"_ and it automatically filters out _"porn"_ , instead asking _"Did You Mean Freddy Krueger?"_ Figuring its your only lead, you accept the correction. The results pull up a document about this "Krueger", and the first thing you notice is an old black-and-white photo marked _"'79"._

That's her.

Those inhuman curves, those lizard-like eyes, that smug smirk, that mane of flowing hair, and those breasts nearly overflowing out of that striped sweater. But this time, it was unscathed and pristine. That is unmistakably the woman in your dreams. You skim the article that accompanies the image.

_"Alfreda 'Freddy' Krueger (1954 - 1983), infamously known as the ██████████ ███████, was a former power plant engineer -"_

The rest of the article was engulfed with thick black censor bars. There's somebody who doesn't want you to see this. You copy/paste the URL into an internet archive and find an uncensored version of it dating all the way back to 90's.

  _"Alfreda 'Freddy' Krueger (1954 - 1983), infamously known as the Springwood Slasher, was a former power plant engineer turned serial killer. Her rampage, which lasted all throughout the mid-to-late 1970's, claimed the lives of twenty teenagers. She managed to evade punishment through judicial and legal cunning, prompting the parents of Springwood to lock her in her own boiler room and burn her alive in 1983 to avenge their children."_

A serial killer! Your dreams are infected by the memory of a forgotten serial killer! But how? You've barely heard of this woman in your life, how do you know her so acutely that not even filtering her through your dreams makes her mannerisms and appearance any less crystal clear? Why would the Springwood authorities bury the memory of her? You put two and two together and realize somehow, some way, this psychopath managed to cheat death through the dreams of teenagers. Her existence must've been censored because the less the public knew about her, the less victims she had. And now you're the sole youth in all of Springwood who knows all about her.

Suddenly the blue hue of the computer screen turns red. You jump out of your chair and realize the book shelves have twisted into water pumps and boilers. The computer twists into a railing, the flooring twists into a catwalk, and the computer's red glow disperses throughout the library into a thick coat of crimson mist. Oh no. You have to wake up. You can't let her get to you. That familiar sadistic chuckle echoes throughout the boiler room, and you start running.

 _"Well well well, Mr. Peeping Tom started sticking his nose where he shouldn't have and knows who I am?"_ Freddy's booming voice recites. _"I gotta say, you're a smart cookie. But have you ever heard the saying..."_

Two hands fly out of the fog swamping you and grab your cheeks. Two eyes stare into yours.

_"Curiosity killed the cat?!"_

_"P-Please don't kill me!"_ you pitifully plea to her, unable to move despite standing up straight.

 _"Kill you?"_ she chuckles, creepily pulling your sweatpants down and streaking her knives across one of your butt-cheeks, branding you like livestock. You shudder and weep as blood oozes down your thigh. _"You're the only kid in Springwood I have power over,"_ she explains as she licks your neck and plants a quick kiss on your lips. _"Killing you would be the last thing I'd want to do."_

She chuckles again as she repeats _"Kill you..."_

 

__  
**"You wish, bitch."**  
  



End file.
